The above article is taken from the Gwent Gazette dated 24/08/06. Click for a bigger, readable version, and hey- how's that for a tasteful headline?
31.8.06
Press Coverage
The above article is taken from the Gwent Gazette dated 24/08/06. Click for a bigger, readable version, and hey- how's that for a tasteful headline?
29.8.06
Three Weeks Tonight...
... is Brown Trousers night. Seriously, I'm shitting it. The songs are all out of my range and I haven't learned my lines- nothing new there then, eh? Apparently tickets are going really well and we should have a sell-out, which is good news. After all, the only thing worse than turning in a second-rate performance is turning in a second-rate performance to a half-empty theatre, so at least I'll be fucking it up in front of a healthy crowd. Book now for the sham-dram experience of a lifetime!
26.8.06
*Skrit Skrit*
I'm just sort of shaking my head and wondering about this fella, not sure what to make of him. A survivor of some sort of Ichthyosis? Fuck knows. This blog is becoming less about my life and more about me scratching my head wondering what's afflicting others. I'd say "burn victim", but the eyes... Anyway, my life. It was the beautiful Laura's birthday this past weekend, and we celebrated with a day out at one of Britain's most awesome theme-park-cum-animal-sanctuaries, Chessington World of Adventures. A few of the rides were fucked so the theme-park aspect was shit, but we did see some really cool animals, the best of which was the Capybara, world's largest rodent- and look at him, he's fucking massive.
That's the sort of rodent you don't want to see sniffing around your bins, he'd chew your fucking arm off. Unless of course you lived in a well-known Capybara area, in which case you wouldn't even be checking your bins without some sort of recoil-free firearm. Can you tell my heart's not in this post somehow? I sure can. Driving lesson yesterday, I'm getting better. Missed a few Titanic rehearsals what with Laura's birthday and whatever, my dicky back's been playing up a bit. Moan, moan, moan, fuck, I bore myself sometimes. I was planning something special for Laura's birthday, but it didn't quite happen- it will, and I'll keep you posted.(Harri are you okay, Harri are you okay, are you okay Harri?)
18.8.06
Wii vs PS3 Spoof
This exactly sums up why I'm really looking forward to owning the new Nintendo console. Cheap and fun.
I Hate Being Away!
Because I've only just noticed this:
I don't like the plain blue suit one little bit. Of course, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I know I could never get away with it like The Doctor will, effortlessly.
Pic from the BBC site, of course.
I don't like the plain blue suit one little bit. Of course, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I know I could never get away with it like The Doctor will, effortlessly.
Pic from the BBC site, of course.
Summer?
I just don't know how to start this, and I sure as fuck won't be bothered spellchecking when it's over, so sorry in advance. To begin with, let me tell you about last Thursday. I was supposed to be flying myself out to Amsterdam as I've done each year since the millennium, to shake off the horrors of the year and "get in touch" with myself, but, if you're a UK denizen then you'll know that last week some fucking idiot wanna-be amateur bombsmiths with a ridiculous fucking axe to grind had some other ideas. These "bombers" may or may not have even existed- I don't trust the news, I don't trust what I'm told on screen or in print, I never have, all I know is that some argument I have FUCK ALL to do with has gypped me out of a solid four days of blissful intoxicated partying... 
fuck, let me set the scene for you. I awoke at 0600 last Thursday and the first thing I see is these cunts on the left, telling me there's been some sort of "mild terror alert", dressing it up in their stupid fucking GMTV safe morning-friendly smile-talk while I'm thinking "ah Christ, delays then", so I set out, I get to the airport with with time to spare (a feat in itself, of which I was proud) to find fucking bedlam. Bedlam and Babylon. People lining up for hour after hour, British humanity in all it's glory, waiting it's turn, dreading the bad news. It was a massive disorganised funeral. Everyone knew they wern't getting where they going, but everyone was too damn British to make a fuss. A classic example of queuing at it's best. Right, bollocks, I'm not going to whinge about my missed holiday anymore because I'm bored of it, and at least I had one or two good nights fuelled out of sheer frustration and anger (hey, maybe it's not your thing, but if you're in Bristol and you're off your mash on ecstasy pipes and you've got nothing better to do, maybe you should enjoy the fifteen-floor superclub that is Oceana. My thanks go to Owen and Captain Crunch, whether they read this or not, for the textual and moral support).
Anyway.
No more moaning.
On to the positive. I've had a few driving lessons, which have been fun. I'm shit thus far, my clutch control is fucking awful and it's entirely my own fault, but at least I'm making up at last for leaving it this late. A big welcome to any newcomers who've posted comments recently, it doesn't go unnoticed. I appreciate any and all feedback, be it red, white, blue or black ; )
Marko
x
fuck, let me set the scene for you. I awoke at 0600 last Thursday and the first thing I see is these cunts on the left, telling me there's been some sort of "mild terror alert", dressing it up in their stupid fucking GMTV safe morning-friendly smile-talk while I'm thinking "ah Christ, delays then", so I set out, I get to the airport with with time to spare (a feat in itself, of which I was proud) to find fucking bedlam. Bedlam and Babylon. People lining up for hour after hour, British humanity in all it's glory, waiting it's turn, dreading the bad news. It was a massive disorganised funeral. Everyone knew they wern't getting where they going, but everyone was too damn British to make a fuss. A classic example of queuing at it's best. Right, bollocks, I'm not going to whinge about my missed holiday anymore because I'm bored of it, and at least I had one or two good nights fuelled out of sheer frustration and anger (hey, maybe it's not your thing, but if you're in Bristol and you're off your mash on ecstasy pipes and you've got nothing better to do, maybe you should enjoy the fifteen-floor superclub that is Oceana. My thanks go to Owen and Captain Crunch, whether they read this or not, for the textual and moral support).Anyway.
No more moaning.
On to the positive. I've had a few driving lessons, which have been fun. I'm shit thus far, my clutch control is fucking awful and it's entirely my own fault, but at least I'm making up at last for leaving it this late. A big welcome to any newcomers who've posted comments recently, it doesn't go unnoticed. I appreciate any and all feedback, be it red, white, blue or black ; )
Marko
x
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